


Nutshell

by TC_Stark



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alice in Chains - Freeform, Angst, Brooding, Depressing Thoughts, Frank Castle's family, Memories, Mentions of Death, Mild Cursing, Post Season 2, Regrets, Season 2 spoilers, Song Lyrics, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, war memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TC_Stark/pseuds/TC_Stark
Summary: Inspired by the lyrics of Alice in Chains' "Nutshell", Frank Castle goes to his home finally after defeating The Blacksmith. This small one-shot is him living in his own mind in that moment and remembering his family. There's mentions of suicidal thoughts in this, so if that's uncomfortable, I would proceed with caution. Frank Castle has a lot on his shoulders and after everything, it's finally settling in.





	

_ We chase misprinted lies~ _

 

It wasn’t that Frank hadn’t disliked the house, it was just it wasn’t his first choice. Then again, materialistic objects had never been appealing to someone like him. It had been Maria, his wife, his love, his sweetheart; who had practically jumped for joy upon seeing the home. Six months pregnant and there she was, bouncing on her toes, wrapping her arms around her husband and cooing, “This is it, Frank, this is where we start our lives.”

 

_ We face the path of lies~ _

 

Maybe the reason why Frank had never really felt an attachment to the home was because he had barely spent time in it. It felt like just when they had gotten settled, just when she had popped out a kid - he was gone. Sorry, honey, but my country needs me. I know we just bought a car, have mortgage payments, and Frank Jr. isn’t even walking, but I gotta go. Always had to go. And she always just smiled. His Maria, so understanding. “Go get ‘em, honey” she’d say, “I’ll give ya hell when you get back.”

 

_ And yet I fight, _

 

_ And yet I fight,  _

 

_ This battle all alone~ _

 

It never felt like Frank was more at home than when he was overseas. Fighting. Next to his brothers and sisters in arms. They all had lives back in the states or at least that’s what they called it. Lives. But, that wasn’t it. Because their actual lives were right where they were and it was with their family, people who loved them that felt the most foreign and out of place.

 

_ No one to cry to~ _

 

_ No place to call home~ _

 

How fucking ironic that after all those years of taking shit for granted that Frank sat in his empty home, all alone. Lights off. Faintly remembering the hint of laughter that once echoed through these walls. The same walls he’d look at and scrunch his nose at, “I hate the color” he’d say. And his wife would tell him he wasn’t home long enough to warrant being able to critique. 

 

Running his hands outwards, on the same table they’d sit to eat dinner at, Frank closed his eyes and imagined it all. Once upon a time he was a Catholic, just like he told Red. He’d ask his kids to say grace and then they’d get to work on the food - knowing his kids were already sneaking small bites during the prayer. He never scolded them - how could he? They were just hungry and daddy was home. Who knew how long that would last?

 

_ My gift of self is raped~ _

 

_ My privacy is raked~ _

 

Oh Maria, baby, thank God you ain’t alive to see what your husband has become. To see the circus that they put him through during his trial. The nickname they gave him. The way they dissected him like a fucking frog on an operating table. Jesus, you’d be so ashamed you’d pack the kids away and take them to your mother’s. Because your man was no longer your man - who was Frank Castle? Because she ain’t ever met him before.

 

_ And yet I find~ _

 

_ And yet I find~ _

 

_ Repeating in my head~ _

 

Standing up, Frank slowly walked away from the kitchen table. It was the first time, in a long time that his body felt heavy. There was a pull that wanted him to stay in the chair. Stay in the fantasy that everything that had happened had been a bad dream. That it wasn’t real and that Maria had made him his favorite meal and they were going to have dinner - as a family.

 

_ If I can’t be my own~ _

 

As if on autopilot, Frank made his way to the living room. His eyes were looking at nothing in particular, but his eyes were focused on the picture frames above the fireplace. He didn’t want to look at them. Didn’t want to live in the fantasy anymore. Because, the massacre had been real. His family was dead and he was never gonna read his baby girl a bedtime story ever again.

 

Eyes settling on a family photo they had taken at Jones Beach, Frank just allowed himself to swirl in the numbing memory of that day. Of the sun hitting his skin - his boy building a sand castle. Maria bouncing his baby girl on her knee. She had made sandwiches for them all and he’d been stuffing one in his face as his wife teased they should have another kid, “maybe this one will make you stay.”

 

Slowly taking out his gun, Frank continued to look at the pictures. Another kid. Maria wanted another child. Thought she needed to bribe him with a way to stay home. But, baby, I gotta go. My country needs me, but I promise it’ll be the last time he was at war. Heh, didn’t he know? He pressed the gun against his temple, he’d never stop being at war.

 

_ I’d feel better dead. _

  
  



End file.
